A New Beginning
by zoe-roberts
Summary: Christine, a penniless orphan, finds herself working as Erik's new housekeeper. Can Christine look past his face and see the man behind the mask? EC, though no Raoul hate
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

There exist few things in life that I truly despise, of which includes large houses, unpleasant company, and housekeeping. I find irony in the fact that I found myself, after nineteen years, employed as a housekeeper in a large house by a very aloof quiet gentleman, described by his previous housekeeper as a man of few words, and a far shorter temper.

My father had passed away before I knew him well, just prior to my third birthday. My parents did not have adequate funds for a doctor, and he went quite suddenly from us one night in December. Almost immediately after my father's passing, my mother took on a job as a governess; primarily, so she could look after me as well. However, perhaps due to the plague of old age, or some other ailment, my mother fell ill and died leaving behind a penniless daughter, with no dowry and no suitors. Those unfortunate events concluded my dreary childhood and caused my employment from M. Erik Destler.

I found myself on a warm breezy spring morning in front of a very large house. Though the advertisement in the post had said "house," I can only better describe its grandeur as a palace of sorts. Not knowing which door to knock on (as there were several), I decided upon the large front doors and rapped brightly upon them. Presently, a very old woman agitated flung them open, pulled me inside, just to slam them shut again. I felt extremely uncomfortable with the ease she accomplished that feat, as the doors appeared extremely heavy. After my moment of bewilderment had passed, I noticed her strong witch-like hands grasping onto my shoulders with ferocity. "Are you Miss Christine? From the telephone?" She asked suddenly, with a mixture of hope and fear plastered on her face.

"Yes," I responded, straightening my back to make me look taller, "I rang yesterday afternoon about the job advertisement in the post."

A toothless grin filled the old woman's face, and she replied, "Thank heavens! You shall be my replacement, and will begin immediately."

With that, the woman gathered a suitcase and flung open the doors once more with the intention of leaving. "Is that it?" I asked, "Will you not conduct any interview?"

"You are an orphan, you have no family and no suitors, and you appear strong and capable. That will be all Mr. Aldridge will require."

"And what am I to do? I have received no instructions."

"You are to clean rooms, and serve tea every day at 3:00 in his study. Whatever you do, do not speak to Mr. Aldridge unless spoken to. He's very recluse, and should find it impertinent."

With that, the woman left, and I never saw her again.

Having achieved the new title of housekeeper I quickly began tidying up the place. Each room I entered appeared more glorious than the next. I felt uncomfortable wandering around someone's home, particularly a man's home, given that I suspected he had no other servants.

Eventually, I located a well-stocked, clean kitchen and realized from the large clock on the mantle that tea time was approaching much more quickly than I had anticipated. I filled the kettle, brewed a pot of tea, and even baked an assortment of small cakes. Even though I disliked housekeeping, I adored anything culinary related and had quite an affinity for pastries.

Armed with a tray full of tea-things, I began wandering around once more, hoping to find his study before the water ran cold. Eventually, I did, 5 minutes past the hour. The large wooden door was shut, so I lightly tapped on it, to which I received a gruff response somewhat resembling the words, "come in."

I slowly opened the door, and walked in tentatively, but with my shoulders back and head held high. "You're late," continued the stern voice. I could not see the man who spoke, as he sat before a fire with his back towards me. "Place the tray on the table and leave."

I laid the tray down on a mahogany table behind the large armchair where he sat. I was not certain if I should speak, but considering he had done so first, I gave my apologies. "I am sorry for being tardy, it will not happen again."

At the sound of my voice, the man shot up from his chair and almost immediately I found his hand at my throat, and fire in his golden eyes. He was much taller than me, with broad muscular shoulders, a chiseled jaw, and he wore a black porcelain mask that covered most of his face. I immediately realized his intention of strangling me to death as my feet left the ground. "Who are you, and where is Madame Giry?!" he roared.

I tried to respond, but could not make any sound, as he had cut off my larynx in his iron grip. Seeing as how the interrogation was useless as long as I could not speak, he flung me onto the ground and waiting impatiently for me to catch my breath.

After coughing and choking for several minutes more, I formed a somewhat coherent sentence. "She left, and I replaced her. My name is Christine—"

"What do you mean she left?"

"She put an advertisement in the morning post a few days ago for a housekeeping job. I applied, she accepted, and left."

This seemed to trouble the man, as he backed away, and ran his hands through his thick black hair. "And your name is Christine?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Christine what?"

"Just Christine, if you please, sir."

A sarcastic smile crept across his face, and he asked, "And you have no surname, Just Christine?"

"I have no sir," I answered, picking myself up from the floor.

He chuckled at that comment, though his eyes stilled burned with scorn, and he inquired, "And you intend on replacing my former housekeeper?"

"I _intended_ on replacing her. I am not very keen on dying, and will have to reevaluate my priorities."

"Which are?" he asked, appearing genuinely interested.

"Staying alive. I fear I may stand a greater risk of dying due to murder in this establishment than dying from starvation out on the streets."

"And if I promise not to harm you?"

"Quite a promise considering you just cut off my airway. A moment ago you did not want me. What has changed your mind so suddenly?" I asked, shifting the questions onto him.

He seemed slightly taken aback at my bold statement, but then retorted, "I thought you had broken in to steal my priceless paintings. I was mistaken."

I let out a sarcastic laugh, and responded, "A burglar who brings around tea?"

"You appear to be overlooking the fact that I am apologizing, and wish to make amends. Shall you stay on as my housekeeper or not?" he asked, his eyes glazing over with annoyance.

"Presently as I nowhere else to go, I shall stay and reevaluate my situation in time. If after that time I am either dead or fear imminent death, you will have to find a new housekeeper," I answered resolutely.

He looked slightly relieved and then turned to look upon the tea tray I had brought. Thankfully, the pot still produced a pillar of steam, indicating that the tea had not run cold. "There are cakes," he statement, as a look of confusion swept across his face.

"Yes," I said, "I did not know what Madame Giry brought with your tea, so I made an assortment of cakes."

"She never brought food, just the tea."

"Oh," I murmured, "Well if you don't want cake, do not feel obligated to eat them on my account."

"No, thank you, they look delightful. Will you join me for tea?"

I nodded slowly, not wishing to offend the man who had just attempted to end my life. He gracefully lifted the tea pot and filled two delicately painted teacups with the steaming liquid I had provided. After handing me a cup, he motioned to one of the large armchairs, sat down himself, and proceeded to study my face for several uncomfortable moments.

"Why are you here Christine?" he asked.

The way he practically purred my name sent shivers down my spine, though not of disgust. Generally, I hated talking about my past and about my parents I strongly disliked sad things. However, his eyes no longer burned with anger, but actually displayed a genuine interest of sorts. "Both of my parents are dead, and they left me behind with nothing. Instead of parading myself around in hopes of finding a husband, as I am certain my aunt would have me do, I will endeavor to make my own money and live my own life."

"But you do have some family?" he asked, taking a sip of tea.

"Technically yes, in England. I have never met them, nor do I want to."

He nodded thoughtfully at that. "Where was your father employed before he died?"

"He was a violinist. He died when I was still small, and I barely remember anything about him other than the music. My mother said he traveled all over Europe to play and was quite accomplished. However, he had a terrible fondness for cards, and squandered any wealth he did have," I had never spoken openly of my father before, especially to a complete stranger. However, Erik seemed trustworthy somehow, and I did not mind so much.

"What was his name?" he asked.

"Charles Daeé."

"And you will not allow me to call you Mademoiselle Daeé?" he inquired.

"No thank you. That girl has gone with her parents, and I would rather start anew, and forget my past."

"That is entirely understandable, Christine," he responded, finishing his cake.

"Do you live alone Mr. Aldridge?" I asked, presently.

"Yes," he responded.

"Do you not have any other servants?"

"I have a driver, both deaf and mute who comes by to bring me wherever I want, upon my bidding. However, I do not need servants; I only require a housekeeper capable of brewing a pot of tea."

"And do you find the tea to your satisfaction, sir?" I asked.

"Very much so, thank you," he responded, cautiously taking a sip.

"Why did Madame Giry instruct me not to speak to you?" I inquired.

I thought I caught a glint of sadness or remorse pass over his stony features, but it disappeared as presently as it had appeared. "Perhaps she warned you about me because of what resulted from your first spoken word. In fact, you are the first person I have conversed with in over nine years."

"Did you not speak to Madame Giry?"

"Not like this."

I was silent for a few moments, and then asked, "If this makes you uncomfortable, I can go."

He froze, and I saw his jaw tighten. Taking that as an affirmative response, I stood up with the intention of exiting the study. "Wait," he mustered, "Don't go."

I sat back down, and we awkwardly watched each other once more. "I suppose I should inquire upon the terms of my employment…"

"What would you like to know?" he asked, studying my face and body language in hopes of figuring me out.

"Shall I only clean and make tea, or would you want me to provide other services?"

"Madame Giry always only cleaned and made tea. However, seeing as how you are an accomplished pastry chef, you may cook also if it suits you."

"Alright. And shall I stay here or live elsewhere?" I asked, concerned of the propriety of our situation.

"Here of course. You shall be provided with an apartment at the east end of the estate. If you should need anything, write a note and pass it along to my driver and he should take you to fetch it."

"Thank you," I answered, "Would you take me to see where I am to stay?"

He nodded, and lead me through the vast winding halls until we reached the very far end of the palace-like structure. He opened the door and finally spoke, "I shall not need your services for the rest of today. You may do as you like whenever you have a spare moment, but I implore you to notify me if you are to leave the estate." He paused searching my face for any reaction, but then continued as I nodded, "If you should want for anything do not hesitate to ask."

With that, he pulled several crisp folds of legal tender from his jacket and pressed it into my palm. "What's that for?" I inquired, "I have merely brought you tea. I cannot accept this."

I tried to force the money back upon him, but he would not take it. "I nearly strangled you to death, yet you are still here. You must be truly desperate for work, and this is the least I can do for you. Good evening Mademoiselle Christine."

He bowed courteously and then disappeared. I flopped on the huge feathery bed and immediately drifted off to sleep, ready for a new day and a new life.

I do not own POTO or its characters.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

When I awoke the sky was fully lit with the sun shining high. I leapt out of the most comfortable bed I had ever encountered, and hurriedly tried to dress. I noticed that the closet had been well stocked with pretty, practical dresses which I had not purchased, though I was certain were meant for me. I threw on a light blue one with white lace decorating the edges. I quickly braided my long golden-brown hair, and headed out of my room. As I shut the door I heard an old grandfather clock strike ten times. I gasped suddenly, and ran towards the kitchen.

As I hurried from my room I crashed directly into my employer and nearly fell onto the floor. However, he managed to gracefully catch me and pull me back onto my feet. "I was just coming to see if you were yet awake…" he said, a bit flustered.

"I beg your pardon sir, I have never in my life slept so late," I said, just as flustered.

He nodded and brushed off my comment, "I'll get straight to work," I stated, as I hurried away, feeling uncomfortable bearing the heavy weight of his gaze.

I soon began tidying his already immaculate home. Everything stood in its place, though a thin layer of dust had begun gathering on book cases and upon the floor. Not long after dusting away at various rooms, I heard music floating through the air. Naturally, I followed the sound through the winding halls until I reached the room with which is originated. I discovered it was an operetta of sorts, though I had never heard it before. I stopped outside the door and watched him gracefully scale the piano while his voice soured in harmony with the notes.

After just a few moments of watching him play, he stopped suddenly, and turned around to face me. "It's not finished yet, but what did you think?"

I had jumped as he turned, and stood there clinging to the doorframe speechless. "Fine. No. Lovely I mean. Fantastic," I stated, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen in my face, "Sorry, it sounded magnificent and I couldn't help but come to listen."

He cracked an amused smirk. "How did you know that I came in?" I asked.

"I heard you, and saw your reflection in my piano. It's quite alright. As I told you, this is your home now too. You may go wherever you wish."

I nodded, and then heard the clock strike 2. "I'll go work on tea!" I said suddenly and rushed off again.

His eyes trailed after me for a moment before he returned to his music. I rushed over to the kitchen and began baking. I beat together eggs, folded in plenty of cream and sugar, and ended up with a perfect raspberry tort. I brewed a pot of tea, saw that the clock was nearing 3, and rushed back study.

M. Destler was no where to be found in the study, so I set the tray on the table and went back to my work. I saw him no more that day, nor the next. However, the tea and food always magically disappeared, so I knew that he had not left his estate.

I aways felt watched. Even though I saw no one, I felt eyes burrowing into the back of my head, nearly every moment of the day. I new he was probably messing with me, hiding away and watching to see if I would actually work or not, which I dutifully did.

One afternoon after my tasks had been completed, I decided I wanted to walk into town for a bit. "M. Destler!" I called, trying to sound confident as my voice wavered a bit.

Like a ghost, he appeared suddenly from behind me. "Yes?"

"You said I should alert you should I ever leave you estate. I wanted to walk into town for a bit."

"Yes, very good. I'll have my driver take you."

"That is not necessary. I want to walk," I stated resolutely.

"That's hardly very safe. Roads can be dangerous, especially in the dark."

"Then I shall endeavor to be back before dark," I replied, as I headed through the doors.

I could sense his irritation rising. He followed me out the door, "Why must you be so impertinent? Are you not concerned for your wellbeing?"

"Not very concerned as I currently reside with a man who strangled me upon our first meeting."

"And I very much regret those actions, as I have previously expressed."

"Sir, I am going for a walk. While I greatly appreciate your generous offer as well as my current position at your estate, I am electing to decline your coach."

His frustration was evident, but I saw it lessen a bit as he quietly asked, "So you have resolved to stay?"

"For the time being I could not imagine a finer working environment."

With that final sentiment, I began walking down the dirt path off of his estate towards the lush green road. I reached the town after about an hour of walking, and spent the afternoon looking in shops. I had never possessed so much money at my expenditure, and I had no idea what to do with it.

I ended up buying two sticks of candy, some jewelry, and a very soft pair of leather gloves. I had eaten plenty of baked goods, but never a real stick of store candy. My excitement grew as I walked down the road back to the estate. As I walked, I heard a coach move along, and it stopped beside me. A tall gentleman emerged and stared at me, dumbfounded for several moments. It took me a bit to recognize him, but then it hit me like a brick, "Raoul!" I shouted, throwing my arms about his neck.

He effortlessly swung me around and laughed, "Christine, you look the same as always!"

"You don't!" I retorted, "What in heaven's name happened to you? It seems like it was yesterday that I was the daughter of a governess learning Italian alongside you."

"Life happened I suppose. As you may have heard, I inherited a very large fortune and estate from my late uncle," he stared at me joyously, and then asked, "What has happened to you? How is your mother?"

"She is doing very well in heaven I suspect," I said, still smiling, "She died not long ago."

"I am so sorry," he lamented, "Surely you cannot live on the streets! You should come to live with me at my manner at once! You should never want for anything again."

"That is very generous of you, Raoul, but I must decline. I have found employment at a nearby estate and I already want for nothing," I responded.

"What estate? With whom?"

"It's a little ways north of town. My employer is M. Erik Destler."

"Don't tell me you live with the recluse? Did he not beat his last caretaker to death?" Raoul stared fearfully down at me, "You cannot stay there. You shall come with me at once!"

"I assure you that he has beaten no one," I replied, trying to calm down Raoul, though I actually was unsure of the accuracy of my statement. "I need to make my own money and do my own work. While I appreciate your generosity, I cannot accept your offer."

He looked a little saddened. "May I see you at all?"

"Yes if course. I am permitted to leave whenever I want after my work has been completed. But I must continue on, I promised to return before nightfall." I kissed Raoul on the cheek, and began walking on.

He sighed slightly, and questioned, "When will I see you again?"

"Perhaps in your dreams," I laughed, disappearing beyond the bend of the road.

When I finally made it back to the estate, the sun had been gone for nearly two hours. I went into a back entrance, and every single ounce of light had been extinguished. I tried to feel around for a candle, but there was none. I sighed heavily, and then tried to feel my way along the wall, though I was hopelessly lost in the dark. I ended up plopping onto the floor with my back against the wall.

I awoke however, back in my feathery bed. I dressed quickly and exited my room to find M. Destler sitting quietly in the dinning room smoking a pipe. "You said you would be back before dark," he mused, hardly glancing up from his thick leather-bound book.

"That was my intention," I responded, folding my hands behind my back, prepared for some sort of disciplinary action on his part.

"Why did you stay in the kitchen and not call for a light?" he inquired, trying to hide the smirk growing on his face.

"Why did you extinguish all the light?" I retorted, getting a little flushed from my irritation.

"Touché," he stated, snapping shut his book.

He gazed directly at me without faltering, but I did not look away. As uncomfortable as his icy stare was, I would not be intimidated. After a moment he glanced away and then inquired, "What kept you out so late? It had to be passed 10-o'clock when you returned."

"Why did you have all the light out if you were still awake?" I answered.

"I work better in the dark, and you are merely avoiding my question. Do you perhaps have a young beau you do not want me to know about?" he asked, puffing out a cloud of smoke.

"No." I stated, "I met an old friend along the road. We stopped to chat, and I went on my way."

"And pray tell me, who is this friend?"

"His name is Raoul. He was my only friend when my mother was away as a governess caring for other children. He has come into some money, and has invited me to live with him at his manner."

"Comte de Changy? Yes I have heard of him. And did you accept?" questioned M. Destler, attempting to hide his nervousness.

"No. I want to make my own money, I do not want handouts," I stated.

"Shall you see him again?"

"I certainly hope so," I replied, before curtsying and exiting the room.

He however, followed me out towards the kitchen. "I'm sorry sir, is there anything else I can do for you?"

He stared at me a moment before speaking, "He has a financeé, you do realize that?"

"Raoul? I would imagine so. He is a lord after all, and lords generally are married."

"Why do you want to see him again?"

I stopped and turned around to face my employer. I generally did not make rash impertinent statements especially to those funding my livelihood, but I did not appreciate the cold personal questions he continuously generated. "Because everyone in my life is dead!" I shouted, "And I'm all alone now. I've never been so lonely in my entire life, and Raoul is the last person who cares about me."

I saw his icy features softened a bit. "My apologies," he stated and then after a moment, "I often do not think before I speak because I rarely have anyone to speak with."

I swallowed before responding, "I'm sorry, I should not have shouted. There would have been no way you could have known about my past."

I turned and pulling several ingredients out of the cupboard, and I began to bake. He stayed there and watched me for a few moments before leaving. Once he was well out of earshot I began singing. It was a few lines of the only opera I had ever heard, but I could hit the high notes that the singer had strained to reach.

I deposited the tray in the study as I was supposed to, and he barely glanced up to notice. "You sing wonderfully," he said, standing up to pour the tea.

"I did not know you were listening."

"I was, and I believe with lessons you could make great improvements," he continued.

"I am afraid that while working here I would not have time to find or employ a teacher. I will have to content myself in my amateur endeavors."

"You would like to learn?"

"I would like to learn anything anyone would teach me."

He looked pleased at that, and after taking a sip of tea stated, "Then I shall teach you. Can you read music?"

"Yes. My mother taught me. She was a governess," I replied.

"Very good," he mused, "What else did she teach you?"

"History, languages, mathematics, geography, and everything else that I know."

"You speak more than one language" he inquired, growing increasingly impressed.

"Yes. I speak French, English, Italian, and Latin."

"When did you have time to learn all that?" he asked.

"I studied every chance I got. We had a meager assortment of books, but the man my mother worked for would allow me to read anything from his library, so I read them all," I replied.

"You like reading?"

"I adore reading," I answered.

He smiled and rose from his seat. "Come with me."

I had not yet entered every room in his house, and after going through endless corridors and halls, we reached a large wooden door. "Close you eyes," he ordered.

I obeyed, and he gingerly took my hand and lead me through the door. Once we reached what I presumed to be the middle of the room, he ordered me to open my eyes. I was overcome with delight as I noticed hundreds, perhaps thousands of beautiful leather-bound novels lining the shelves all the way to the ceiling. There were several tall comfortable looking armchairs shoved up against the walls, and a large stone fireplace giving off a lot of heat.

"What is your favorite book?" I inquired.

"I have always adored the writings of Charles Dickens. My favorite is beyond a doubt Great Expectations. I find myself rereading and resonating with it a different way every time. I only have one copy of it, but my heart will stay with it until the day I die."

I smiled, "I have never read that book, but if you speak so highly of it, perhaps I should."

He too returned my smile and said, "You may take the rest of the day off, and tomorrow too. Read to your heart's content. And perhaps tomorrow if you want, I could give you a music lesson."

I couldn't help but throw my arms around his neck, even though I had been employed less than a month. He seem shocked and tensed up slightly, "thank you!" I exclaimed, "thank you so much, and I would love a music lesson!"

He smiled and then exited the library. I walked around the room, looking at every book within my reach. I settled on a very old tattered book written in latin. I curled up in a big arm chair next to the fire, and read until I could not keep my eyes open any longer. I faintly heard the clock strike midnight as I drifted off to sleep in the armchair.

When I awoke, it was not in my bed or the chair, I was being carried. After a minute, he reached my room on the east end of the mansion, and he gently laid me down on the bed. I felt his lips press gently to my forehead and he whispered softly, "Goodnight Christine," before exiting the room.

I could not quite recall whether or not that was a dream as I drifted off to sleep, but I presumed it was reality, since the next morning I awoke safely back in my bed.


End file.
